


Lost in the Echo

by little_loving_lefty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Cunnilingus, Dreams and Nightmares, Episodes from the characters' point of views, F/M, Modern Westeros, fluff at the end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_loving_lefty/pseuds/little_loving_lefty
Summary: Her blue-gray eyes staring deep into his soul, the small cut on her cheek that’s bleeding slightly, the deep red color of her curls standing out against the snow; it all feels so familiar. He can’t tell why though. He’s never chased a redheaded wildling girl through the mountains. At least, not that he can remember.The only way you can see the people you've lost again is in dreams...





	Lost in the Echo

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I've gotten really into GOT lately and I figured this would be a cool story to tell for Jon/Ygritte! The first few chapters are going to be canon episodes from either Jon or Ygritte's point of view. They're basically a retelling of what you've already seen, but bear with me. I have a surprise for the last chapter! This means spoilers from Season 2 episodes 6 and 7, Season 3 episodes 5, 6, 7, and 9, and Season 4 episode 9. Hope you enjoy! Kudos, comments, suggestions, and questions are greatly appreciated!
> 
> I do not own GOT or any of the characters.

He has her pinned against a rock, one hand curled into the collar of her furs. His sword is kept ready in the other. They’re panting heavily, each breath forming clouds that disappear into the cold winter air. Neither soul moves a muscle. In the quiet seconds that seem to drag on forever, he gets a better look at her.

The deep blue-gray of her eyes is the first thing he sees. They’re cold and dark and full of anger; a rather striking similarity to the snow-ridden landscape around them. Her wild red curls, pulled back from her face by a few intricate braids, spill out from under her hood. A splash of freckles covers her cheeks and her little nose. Their red color stands out in stark contrast against the pale of her skin. Her thin lips form into a slight snarl. Her breathing is labored, no doubt from the scuffle that had just occurred. He swears he can feel her unsteady heartbeat against his hand. She holds his gaze, searching his face for any sign of what he might do next. 

He can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful woman he's ever seen, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

Jon didn't know it was a woman at first. No one in the small band of Night’s Watch Rangers knew. They hadn’t really stopped to ask questions before sneaking up on the wildlings’ campfire and attacking them. Now she's pinned beneath Jon’s weight, waiting in tense anticipation for him to do something, anything.

Jon breaks their shared gaze for only a moment to glance over his shoulder.

“It’s a girl.”

Qhorin Halfhand throws a leveling look in Jon’s direction. “A wildling,” he reminds him, out of breath.

Jon looks back at her. Her eyes narrow as she snarls up at him.

“We could question her.”

“You could. She won’t answer,” Qhorin responds matter of factly. “I’ve known a wildling to bite off his tongue instead of talking.”

Something tells Jon she wouldn’t do that. Something tells him she’ll answer his questions. He gives her collar a harsh tug for good measure, bringing her face a couple inches closer to his.

“What’s your name?”

“Ygritte.” She looks him dead in the eye as the name rolls thick off her tongue.

Jon’s heart skips the tiniest fraction of a beat.

Qhorin suddenly appears to their right, picking up an ax that lies forgotten by both Ranger and wildling alike. He turns it over in his hand a few times.

“She was reaching for this ax when ya got to ‘er. Give ‘er half a chance, she’ll bury it in your face.”

Ignoring Qhorin’s insight, Jon turns his attention back to the girl underneath him. A curious expression crosses her features. Her gaze wanders down to his lips for half a second before returning to meet his own. She’s expecting something out of him.

“I gave ya my name.”

There it is. Jon huffs, pushing some of his weight off of her.

“I’m Jon Snow.”

Jon releases her from his grasp, taking a step back. Ygritte continues to hold his attention. Only when he points his sword at her chest does she look away. A moment of complete silence surrounds the group. He watches as Ygritte glances up at Qhorin, down to the bodies of her dead wildling comrades, then back up to Qhorin. Jon’s only half listening as she speaks to the older Ranger. She mentions something about burning the bodies. Qhorin quickly shuts the idea down. He asks her why she wants them to build a big fire, insinuating that it’ll send a signal to other wildlings in the area. The answer she gives chills Jon to the bone.

“Burn them or maybe you’ll need those swords again.”

He knows exactly what she means. He’s seen them before, the White Walkers. They’re a dangerous enemy, not one to be trifled with, that could scare the wits out of any man. Qhorin dismisses her, telling her that Jon’s killed one dead man and could do it again. Qhorin is telling the truth. Jon had killed one, just north of the Wall with Sam and a group of Rangers. Nothing in the world could make him want to do it again.

Qhorin nods in the direction of the mountain range to the far west. “What waits beyond the pass?” 

“The Free Folk,” Ygritte confesses.

“How many?” Qhorin demands.

Ygritte gives a half-hearted laugh and smirks at the pair. “Hundred and thousands. More than you’ve ever seen, crow.”

Jon eyes the Ranger beside him. If the number of free folk she claims to be beyond the mountain pass is true, they’re dead men for sure. They could take three or four in a fight easily. A thousand was impossible for four men of the Night’s Watch. Jon catches the wild look in Ygritte’s blue-gray eyes as she watches the pair in silence.

Halfhand presses for more, wondering what the free folk’s king could possibly want in the barren Frostfang Mountains. Ygritte doesn’t have an answer this time. Instead, her eyes dip back down to Jon’s sword still pointing in her direction. She follows the silver blade upward until she’s looking Jon in the eye again. He stares at her wordlessly.

Qhorin’s gruff voice snaps him from his half trance. Jon moves the blade aside as the man takes a step forward. Qhorin moves in closer to the wildling woman, bringing her attention back to him.

“Do you know who I am, girl?” He raises his brows.

“Qhorin Halfhand,” she all but spits back.

Halfhand won’t be received kindly by the free folk. Ygritte tells him as much. The two men watch her for a second before a decision is made. They can’t spare a man to keep an eye on her and there’s barely enough food for the group as it is. Letting her go is not an option either, knowing that she’d run straight back to Mance Rayder and bring his army down on them.

“It needs to be done.” Qhorin unsheathes his blade, directing it at her throat. “Want me to do it?”

“No.” Jon pauses. “No, I’ll do it.”

Something inside Jon whispers that he can’t let Qhorin be the one to kill her. He can see the fear flashing in Ygritte’s eyes as she glances between the blades. She presses back against the rock ever so slightly. Ygritte knows she’s going to die. She knows there’s no way out of this alive. Jon understands why. If she accepts defeat and stays, she’ll be beheaded. If she tries to run, the archer of the group would put an arrow through her heart in a split second. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier.

Halfhand sheaths his sword back at his side and warns Jon to be quick about it. He ushers the other men of the Night’s Watch away, leaving the young Ranger and the wildling girl to themselves.

Jon doesn’t do anything at first. After a long moment of silence, he takes a hesitant step to his right and stands directly in front of her. Ygritte’s eyes narrow once more as she searches Jon’s face for an answer.

“You never killed a woman before, did ya?”

 _No_. Jon wants to give her the honest truth. He really does.

Instead, he continues to stare at her through his dark curls.

“Ya don’t need to do it. Mance would take ya. I know he would.” Ygritte frantically nods. Her eyes widen a fraction as she props herself up on her elbows. “There’s secret ways. The crows would never catch-”

She gasps, her words cut off by the smooth blade of Jon’s sword pressing just under her jaw. He knows what she’s doing. Any fool of a man could see it. He isn’t going to let her win her little game and let her go. He makes sure she knows that.

“I’m as much a crow as they are,” Jon replies before lifting the Valyrian steel off her skin.

Ygritte looks slightly dumbfounded as she adjusts herself into a more comfortable position for her impending beheading. Jon places the sword on the back of her neck. The redhead swallows hard when he does.

“Will ya burn me, afta?”

Even though he knows he should, Jon tells her someone could see the smoke. He doesn’t want to risk the safety of his brothers for the body of a dead girl. Ygritte shifts her hood back for a better hit. She stares at the ground.

“Strike hard and true, Jon Snow. Or I’ll come back and haunt ya.”

The way his name rolls of her tongue in her thick Northern accent sends a shiver down his spine. He tries to dismiss it as the winter wind cutting through his cloak. The muscles in his arms go weak as he tries to lift the blade upwards. She remarks that the steel is cold against her skin and tells him through gritted teeth to be quick about it. 

He can’t bring himself to do it. Jon knew that the moment he volunteered to stay back. He shifts the blade once more, trying to build the courage he needs. In his moment of hesitation, Ygritte turns to look at him. His heart stops at the sight of her stormy eyes and he has to look away before he does something he might regret.

“Do it,” she spits.

He doesn’t.

“Bastard, do it!” 

At her words, a rush of courage hits him like lightning. Jon’s muscles react faster than he can think. Before even he knows it, the blade is above his head and coming down fast. His vision goes blurry. He can’t make out her furs against the snow or the setting sunlight drenching her curly mane. He hears metal strike rock and silently hopes to the gods, old and new, that he didn’t kill her.

He breathes heavily and suddenly he can see again. His blade sits on the rock, beams of light glinting off of it. It’s clean, not a trace of blood on it.

Ygritte’s eyes, having been squeezed shut, slowly open, and land on the blade in front of her. She gazes up at Jon wordlessly. He knows what he’s done and so does she. He couldn’t do it.

He’s let her live.

A look of sad astonishment quickly crosses Ygritte’s features before her wild anger steals it away. She swings her arm outwards, slamming it hard into the back of Jon’s knee. It buckles under his weight and he crumples to the ground like a dead deer. She pushes herself off the rocks, whirling around and bolting before he can attempt to stop her. It takes him a second to get up. Once he’s on his feet, he takes off after her running figure.

Jon quickly learns that Ygritte knows how to traverse the terrain they’re in much better than he does. She’s yards ahead of him, jumping and sliding and pouring on speed wherever necessary. She may be well versed in the terrain, but Jon’s strategic. He watches for only a moment as she heads towards a steep outcropping. He forms a plan in a matter of seconds, then darts off toward the top.

He comes up over the top of the rock wall just in time to see her running several feet below. Jon lets his boots fly out from under him, sliding down the small gravel path and right into her. She hits the ground hard enough that he almost feels sorry for her. He grabs her and tries to pin her down, but she struggles to get away again. The ordeal only lasts for a minute, ending quickly when Jon manages to put a knife against her throat. 

Ygritte is the first to speak. “Ya can’t do i’. We both know i’.” 

Jon knows she’s right. Annoyed with her antics, he flips her onto her back and points the blade at her neck. An odd sense of deja vu washes over him, settling in the pit of his stomach. Her blue-gray eyes staring deep into his soul, the small cut on her cheek that’s bleeding slightly, the deep red color of her curls standing out against the snow; it all feels so familiar. He can’t tell why though. He’s never chased a redheaded wildling girl through the mountains. At least, not that he can remember.

Ygritte’s eyebrows raise as she give him a wild smirk. “The sun’s going down, Jon Snow, and your friends are nowhere close.”

“I’ll find them.”

“Call for them,” she taunts, out of breath. “Go on. Call loudly.”

Jon looks over his shoulder at the barren landscape behind him. They’re a long ways away from where they started. He can’t call out for his brothers like she wants him to. They both have no idea how many wildlings may be in the area. He brings his attention back to Ygritte, already forming a plan on what to do with her.

* * *

“Your brothers desert ya?” Ygritte taunts behind him. “I can tell you which way ta go.”

The sun has dipped low behind the mountain range when Jon finally stops to get his bearings. Ygritte stands behind him, a rope tied around her hands and waist. He’s glad she can’t see his expression. He looks like a lost puppy without an inkling of an idea how to get back home. It’s too dangerous to be marching around in the dark, especially when wildlings could be nearby, so he decides the open area where they stand is good enough.

“We’ll stop here. Too dark to go any farther today.”

He turns around in time to see her face scrunch up in confusion.

“‘Ere?” Jon tugs on the rope, jerking her forward. “There’s no shelter ‘ere.”

“There’s no shelter anywhere,” he grumbles. He takes the long length of rope he’s been holding and winds it around her, tying her up further.

“There is... if you know where to look,” Ygritte snarks back.

An uncomfortable silence surrounds them as he ties her legs together.

“The cold could kill us both. If we light a fire a-”

He cuts her off. “No fire.”

“Bu’ a fire is-”

“No _fire_ ,” he says sternly, pulling the knot he’s made snug.

“Have it your way,” she mutters.

Jon places a hand on her front and back and lays her down on the frozen dirt. Her legs are bent, so he kicks them out straight. He can’t have her trying anything during the night.

“We’ll stay warmer if we stay close,” Ygritte calls out as he turns and stalks away.

Jon pauses in his tracks. 

“Bet you freeze to death before I do. Bet your life.”

She’s right. With no fire to warm them and no shelter to keep out the cold, the only option they have is to use each other’s warmth. The Night’s Watch furs he wears do a decent enough job of keeping his skin from freezing. They won’t do a thing while he lies still overnight. He sighs inwardly. As much as he doesn’t like the idea of being close to her (his body says otherwise), Jon has to admit it's their only choice. Her taunting doesn’t help much.

He turns back and lays down behind her, grabbing her arm to keep them close.

“Think they’re out looking for ya?” she asks quietly.

“Yes.”

In truth, he doesn’t know. He just gives the answer he wants to hear, the one he hopes and prays to the gods, old and new, is true, in hopes that it’ll quiet her. She’s been getting on his nerves, talking and taunting and questioning him every step of the way.

“Think they’ll find ya?”

“Yes.”

“You’re brave.” Her voice is soft, her thick accent curling each syllable she speaks. “Stupid, but brave.”

Jon doesn’t want to open his mouth, afraid he’ll say something stupid. He focuses on the red of her hair and wills his pounding heart to calm.

“We start again at first light. Get some sleep.”

He shuts his eyes. The cold bites at his skin, but her warmth is doing its part. He’s ready to let the long arms of sleep drag him down into the dark when a movement startles him. The movement is slow and steady at his hips. Jon knows almost instantly where it’s coming from.

“Stop moving,” he orders.

Ygritte’s hips pause their grinding.

“I’m jus’ trying to get comfortable,” she says, feigning innocence.

She starts up again not a second later. This time she presses her ass against him a little harder.

“Stop it.” 

She does.

Silence envelopes the pair once more. The peaceful moment doesn’t last long. Ygritte’s hips begin circling again in the same slow motion.

“You’re still moving,” Jon mutters through gritted teeth.

“Was I?” she teases smugly. “I didn’t notice that time.”

Jon stares at her wild curly hair incredulously. Even though he can’t see it, he knows she’s smirking. He huffs out a sigh. If he didn’t get rid of her soon, she was going to be the death of him, one way or another. That was something he would worry about when the sun was up. For now, he needs to rest. They both need to rest. He closes his eyes, finally able to let sleep settle over him.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? There will be regular updates until all five chapters are up. I'm not sure how regular they'll be (every week, every other week, etc), but I'm invested in this to the end. I have another one shot I want to do as well, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Thank you to my amazing beta [A](http://archiveofourown.org/users/insieme) for reading and editing this, answering all my questions, and keeping me from going insane while I write! Love you girl!
> 
> Till next chapter.  
> ~K


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